


It's Enough

by Blackprose



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Drug-Induced Sex, Hand Jobs, Justification of a bad situation, Love Confessions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mint Eye, POV First Person, POV Yoosung Kim, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Yooran Week, Yoosung Bad End 3, mild physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 03:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackprose/pseuds/Blackprose
Summary: An exploration into Yoosung's mind post kidnapping and Mint Eye induction.Update April 2018: This fic now has a Russian translation! Thank you MaroonTears on tumblr. Read ithere





	It's Enough

This is so much easier than the real world. Out there, I had to deal with so many different things. I had no idea who I was anymore, ever since I lost Rika. I thought she’d be with me my entire life, guiding me on the right path; always there with sage wisdom if I ever needed her.

Then, she died. Suicide. Was I supposed to believe that? Rika was happy. She was a happy and carefree person. I refuse to believe she just committed suicide one day. She wasn’t sad… she definitely wasn’t sad.

Hmm. Now that I think about it, people didn’t think I was sad, either. They all thought gaming was just part of being a normal college student. None of my friends noticed. None of the RFA noticed. Is that how Rika felt? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anymore, because she isn’t alive. She made her choice.

This should make me feel remorseful, but now it just feels far, far away. Out in the real world, where those problems existed. They don’t exist inside here. Horrible things that used to make me cry, like the image of her gravestone and the animals I had to euthanize, don’t exist here.

Some days, he makes me play his brother; other days, I’m his lover. When I’m neither of those, I’m his loyal pet. He collared me the first day I got here, but he doesn’t leash me anymore. There’s nowhere else for me to go, and we both know that.

I don’t want to go back out there. Back in the world where people expect me to stay as bright as I used to be. I’m done being that Yoosung. I’d rather be taken care of. He’ll take care of me. He has all this time.

How long has it been since he took me? A few months? I can’t even remember her name… the new Rika. He already told me the truth anyway; there’s no way she could love me. She didn’t take care of me. She didn’t protect me like he does. She encouraged me to go somewhere dangerous. She didn’t know what would happen to me, and she let me go anyway. He’d never do that to me. He promised. He doesn’t even let anyone else see me.

Maybe I shouldn’t like being caged up in a room alone with him, but I like it a lot.

“Mmm, just like that.”

At night, he holds me close to him. That’s the first time I realized there was more than just an animal behind that feral gaze. He was like a dog lashing out at everyone who tried to touch him, but all he wanted was a kind touch. I gave that to him and in return, he protected me. I am his loyal pet. I may have got bitten once or twice, but that was endurable if this was my reward. I can live here forever with him, and he will sacrifice everything for me.

I don’t know when things started to warp so clearly. At first, I hated the way he treated me. I hated the collar and the leash, the clean tuxedo, the way he looked at me. He always suggested that if I didn’t behave he’d rape me, or touch me in ways I didn’t want to be touched. But he learned quickly there were very few ways I disliked being touched.

I learned quickly that his threats were empty. I wonder if he accounted for my tolerance for pain. He never hurt me irreparably, and the pain and humiliation, well…

It could have been much worse than what it was. The first time he ever touched me, I didn’t even have the words in my throat to beg him to stop, because he had neglected to fill my water bowl for several days. I couldn’t even protest. I just squeaked and moaned weakly underneath his touch.

I stared in his eyes as he did it. He didn’t force me… I just… I wanted to see what kind of person he was. Instead, I saw the kind of person I was reflected. You know how when you get close enough to someone’s face, you can see your own reflection? I didn’t until then. I had never gotten that close to anybody before. But what I saw was impossible to ignore.

Mouth open, saliva dripping down my chin, eyes darkened with lust. The first time he made me cum, it felt exhilarating. The room we occupy has a small window at eye-level. Other Mint Eye members walk by occasionally and look in. I was horrified by the thought that they’d walk in to see… however he wanted to take me that day. The first time it happened though… making eye contact with a complete stranger as my most private areas were displayed lewdly pushed me over the edge. He was trying to deny me an orgasm, but he hadn’t accounted for the fact that I am disgusting.

I tried to lie to myself over and over about these feelings. It was just a body. It wasn’t me. There was no way I wanted to be treated like this. I wanted my first time to be special, and heartfelt, and with a girl I was in love with. As it continued to happen, however, I knew all of that was untrue.

There was something about the way he looked at me. At first, it was pensive and alert, like he expected me to spit in his face or attack him. He’d lash out at me for the simplest things: asking for water, crying, breathing too loudly. Then, he started to accommodate my body: offering me showers, giving me food and water regularly, and… god, this is so fucked up. Sometimes late at night, he’d let me touch his face while he cried. He’d let me hold him close to my chest as he wailed. His sobs broke my heart. There was so much more to this man than the hacker pursuing the RFA. He was so broken and fragile inside, almost childlike at times. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through, but I held him anyways, because I wanted the way he smelled to seep into my skin.

I wanted to own his heart. He owned my body, sure, but that wasn’t important to me. Not anymore. It’s probably why I didn’t mind when he touched me so often. It was the closest I would ever get to reciprocated romantic love.

My first time… the first time we ever had sex. It was with someone I loved, someone I am in love with. I’m just not sure if he loves me or even knows I love him.

I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore. I wanted this. I wanted everything he did to me and more.

He forbids me from touching him during the day, but I reach out anyway and tangle my hands in his soft, white hair. I don’t push him down, or guide his mouth. I mostly just want someone to touch. I’m so dependent on physical reassurances. That must be why I let him do this to me. It feels pleasurable, and in that moment between the peak of my orgasm and the fall, I escape myself and my thoughts. In that moment, I’m lovable and good and desired. I’m no longer the piece of shit I know I am.

I can convince myself that maybe somewhere deep inside he loves me, too.

At first, the sexual encounters were only occasional. Then they became frequent. Then they became the norm. Became my existence. I was being kept alive by him for this sole reason.

I thought maybe he’d share me with other people, but once someone tried to walk in and he attacked them with words and with weapons until they fled. I saw some correspondence from this Saviour person that warned him not to do it again, but she never made physical appearances herself. All her emails or letters ended with one thing: “Continue your mission and I’ll let you keep him.”

If he was capable of expressing any kind of love towards me, I feel that this was the peak of it. He was doing all of this for me. Maybe he wasn’t before I came here, but now he was. He’s built this entire identity and daily schedule over being simultaneously my owner and my guard. And in exchange, I loved him.

He never says my name, and he won’t tell me his, but I wonder if there’s a part of him that loves me.

He lifts his head; my skin, once enveloped in the warmth of his mouth, feels cold and slick. He slaps my hands away from him. Then, he grabs one of my wrists and twists it painfully until I’m snapped out of my thoughts.

“I thought I told you never to touch me,” he growls in a low voice. I should be more fearful of that look in his eyes, but I can see that he was as into the blow job as I was. I maintain eye contact, searching those mint coloured eyes for the proof I desire. He clenches his jaw and bares his teeth at me, trying to scare me, but behind the anger I can see the hesitation.

I pause long enough that it annoys him, so he squeezes my balls in his stony grip hard enough that I wince from the pain. It causes a sickening smile to bloom on his face, the light behind his eyes and that accompanying grin reminding me of a Jack O’ Lantern. He’s not himself right now. I should have known when he stumbled into the room twenty minutes ago. He’s high.

His eyes are glassy and his smile so twisted it sends chills up my spine and right to my cock. I hate when he’s scary, but something about it is just sexier. I never know what he’s going to do when he’s like this.

“Who are you thinking about, pet?” he purrs. It’s not a question as much as it’s a challenge. “You better not be thinking of that woman.”

“I’m not,” I respond quickly, surprised by how desperate my voice sounds. “I wasn’t.”

“Oh? Then who were you thinking about?” He sits up until we’re both eye level with each other. Another test.

“I wasn’t th-thinking about anyone but you.”

“If that was true, you wouldn’t have touched me. Do I need to punish you?”

“N-no.”

“Is that so?” He cocks his head to one side. Fuck, he’s so cute. Why is that all I can think about? I should be afraid, but I’m not. He won’t hurt me and he won’t kill me. He needs me as much as I need him. Without each other, we both have no purpose.

“Y-yes”

“Hmm. Tell me what you need.”

I lick my lips nervously, finally unable to maintain his steely gaze. For all the sexual experiences we’ve shared, asking for it still makes my face feel hot and my body tingle from the shame. My cock twitches in his hand, brushing against his calloused skin. I want him to touch me so badly. I want him to pretend he loves me. Just for now. Please. Please let me escape who I am and believe I’m loveable.

“I need y-you.”

“How?”

“Your- Ah!” My breath catches in my throat when he starts stroking painfully slowly. “Your- mmmf.” He shoves his fingers in my mouth and I suck at them desperately. “M-mouth,” I manage to speak awkwardly through my lips and his fingers.

He removes his fingers and grins when he hears me whimper. Then he takes both my wrists and pins them above my head, tying them with the leash he no longer attaches to my collar. Wrists successfully and painfully bound, he crashes his lips onto mine. I return his kisses with fervor, relishing in the fingertips of his left hand grazing over my stomach, my chest, my nipples, and then tightly around my neck. All the while the right hand continues the slow, languid pumps, index finger and thumb the only parts of his hand touching my hard cock.

God, it’s so fucked up that I’m enjoying this. Even when I start to feel dizzy from the kisses and the lack of oxygen, I can’t stop moving my lips in tandem with his. This is my purpose, after all. This is why I exist, and it’s so much better than existing out there in the real world. Here, the only thing he expects of me is an eager lover. 

I tug at the restraints on my wrist and am thrilled that I can feel the sting and ache already starting. It’s going to leave a deep, red cut when he finally unties me.

I prefer this. Really.

Then, my cheek stings and I’m disoriented. There are no hands around my neck, and I take giant gulps of air to fill my burning lungs.

“Don’t bite me!” he yells and I let my head fall back weakly and shut my eyes. I can’t remember biting him, but if he said I did, then it probably happened.

My mouth and neck are wet with our saliva. My body feels like it’s on fire. My chest is heaving and my brain is numb. I can’t even begin to form a response aside from a low, satisfied groan when I feel his mouth around my cock, his teeth grazing the tip gently.

I won’t last much longer like this. My cheeks sting, my wrists ache and my hands are going numb from the restraints cutting off the blood flow, and his teeth are nibbling against the head of my cock in the perfect way. It’s not fair that he knows how to tease my body like this when I haven’t been allowed to touch him once. I can’t even help the way my body bounces in response and he doesn’t seem to have noticed because he keeps his eyes closed, working on his task with the same determination he employs when he’s hacking.

“I-I… s-sorry.”

It’s all I can manage before my words break him out of his determined trance and he looks up from underneath his lashes. He’s scary. He’s scary and unhinged and hurts me, but in a moment like this, he sacrifices that power to me and I can see how he feels about me. It’s being broadcasted through those mint eyes and furrowed brows, like he’s worried he’s doing a bad job, before he reads in my face how close I am. He turns his eyes downwards and his head bobs with newfound vigor.

It’s building inside me. I’m so close. I flex my hands in the restraints, forgetting for a second that I was tied up. I just want to hold him. This isn’t fair. This isn’t fun anymore. I want more than just the overwhelming feeling of his mouth around me. I want him. I want everything he is. I want to know his name. I want to know his body like he knows mine.

I’ve learned so much about his body language, but what do his moans sound like? What gets him off besides penetration? Does he like to cuddle after? Does his skin burn the way mine does when we touch?

My toes curl and I stretch my legs out even though I’m sitting as I cum in his mouth. He continues bobbing, slurping and swallowing every drop. He sits back on his heels and wipes the edges of his mouth, then sucks the tips of his fingers as I whimper. He doesn’t grin like usual, though. He just frowns.

I’m aware again of how he isn’t focusing on me or my face. I forgot how drugged up he is right now.

“Why are you cry-”

“How much did you take?” We speak at the same time but I finish my sentence first. His frown turns into an outright scowl.

“None of your fucking business.”

“It is my business,” I insist. I’m not sure if it’s smart to be getting this mouthy with him when I’m restrained and naked. My chest is heaving and my skin is starting to cool down. I’m more aware than ever of how sweaty I am and how cold it’s making me, but none of that is important, because he’s high.

“I needed it.”

“Why did you come in here and do this, then?” I retort instantly. He’s standing now and I can see the bulge in the front of his pants. “Let me take care of that.”

“No.” It’s always no.

“Why?”

He moves faster than I can register, faster than I expected he’d be able to move considering how languidly he was moving seconds before. He sits on my lap hard, grinding into my deflating erection. He’s purposefully hurting me. He knows how sensitive everything is immediately after an orgasm, but like the good boy I am, my body is already responding to the possibility of round two.

“You want to fuck me?” He teases. There’s no way he’d let me even if I said yes.

“No.”

His movement falters for a moment, then another grin blooms on his face. His eyes still look dead, though. 

“You know how to make everything fun, pet,” he laughs maniacally.

“T-tell – ah! – tell m-me your…. your name.” I can’t even maintain the façade that his movements aren’t getting to me until my sensitive skin snags on his black jeans and I cry out in pain.

“Why?”

“’Cause.” I can’t tell him how I feel.

“Hmm. Not good enough.”

“Please.” I can’t tell him I love him.

“Why?”

I’m crying again. I didn’t notice I was crying before, but now I’ve begun again, and it’s warming my flushed cheeks, but that’s the only good thing about it, how warm it feels on my skin. It hurts. It’s tearing into my chest and restricting my lungs. It isn’t sexy. It’s ugly.

He ignores it and continues grinding. It feels good, but for once, I wish my body wouldn’t respond to him so eagerly. I want more than his body. Dammit, I want all of him.

“P-please,” I beg again. My mouth starts to feel thick, my saliva turning to mucus and changing the tone of my words. I let my head hang. There’s no way I want to meet his maniacal, uncaring gaze when I’m this vulnerable. I don’t even want to ask him to move away from me, because I want to touch him so badly that I’ll take even this. I want to cuddle him post orgasm. I want to unravel him like he does to me.

But if I can’t have any of that, I will settle for his name.

He grabs me roughly by the chin and lifts my head up. He wipes my tears away with a huff, tracing the redness he left from his slap earlier, and then he gently kisses my lips. The softness of his lips, the way he’s cradling my cheek, the way he wipes the tears away from my face like he’s an adult and I’m a child; as if he’s acknowledging my tears but discrediting them at the same time, just another kid crying over something stupid and unattainable.

“I take care of you. Isn’t that enough?” He finally says. His face is so close to mine that all his words feel like individual kisses on my lips. It’s then that I notice he’s stopped dry-humping me. When did he stop? Even so, I’m more interested in his kind words and soft kisses.

“N-not anymore,” I choke out. “I-I…”

I love you.

“Saeran.”

I perk up and meet his eyes. There’s no way he’d just tell me after a few tears? I’ve cried so many times in front of him, and all it’s gotten me before is harsh words and more than one beating.

“Is that-“ he silences me with a long, agonizingly sentimental kiss. When he pulls away, our lips are connected by a trail of saliva. “-your name?”

He – no, Saeran - looks at me, nodding weakly, before dropping his gaze to my lips. Then, Saeran looks up and realizes he forgot to untie my hands. It’s not like I expected Saeran to anyway. Saeran usually leaves me like this after while he gets back to work.

God, his name sounds so good, even in my thoughts. Saeran, Saeran, Saeran.

When he unties me, I understand that there is something fundamentally different about this encounter. My hands hover over his shoulders, ghosting over his skin. He’s staring down at me, our crotches still pressed together, but he’s hovering over me like he’s trying to hold onto any semblance of power. My arms shake from exhaustion. I’m only able to hold them up due to sheer willpower and an unrelenting need to touch him. 

His gaze is stoically illegible. I’m not sure if he’s challenging me so he has an excuse to hurt me or if he genuinely wants this. I should know, but in this moment I want to touch him so badly I worry my need is tainting my perception.

I love you.

When I wrap my arms around his waist, we both sigh and melt into each other. I can’t believe Saeran’s letting me touch him in the daytime. I can’t believe he wiped the tears from my face. I can’t believe both his hands are running through my hair, pushing it away from my face.

Maybe I shouldn’t push it, but this is the most progress I’ve made with Saeran since… since the sex began.

“Can I…?” I say as my hands drop lower, to his hips.

His eyes turn hateful and he bites his lip enough to draw blood. I lift my hands right away, but he stops touching my hair specifically to anchor my hands back onto his hips.

“Why?” Saeran asks, but it sounds like he’s accusing me of something.

“I want to make you feel good.”

“So?”

“Y-you always do it to m-me and I want…”

“That’s because I own you.”

“I know!” I retaliate. “I know that, I just-“

“Okay.”

What? My hands almost fall from his sides, but he’s holding them in place. It’s then that I can feel the way he’s shaking. He’s terrified. He’s trying to defend himself. His steely gaze is cold, like he’s testing me to see if I pursue this further. But there’s a spark behind them that only I can see. If I hadn’t spent every day with him for the past few months, I’d think he doesn’t want this, that he’s luring me into some type of trap. Now, I just know that this is the way he looks when he truly wants something but can’t bring himself to ask for it.

I wiggle my hands and he loosens his grip, which allows me to hook my fingers into the belt loops on his pants and tug. It’s not enough to remove his pants, but it’s enough to get him to unbutton them. He doesn’t make any motion to peel them off, though, so it must be up to me. I pull slowly, keeping my eyes locked with his. I gulp nervously and feel heat shoot down my body and nestle between my legs when I notice he isn’t wearing underwear.

We just stare at each other for a few moments, while my fingers walk across his stomach and pelvis until I find his coarse pubic hair. His entire face is blank, but I can see the way his pulse is hammering beneath his jawline.

My fingers curl around the base of his cock, and he sucks in a deep breath between his teeth. I can hear the hiss from here. I take the initiative to lean forward and kiss him. My strokes start slow and pensive, as I muse over the way I can feel the breath catch in his throat when I reach the tip of his dick and cup my hand around the head, pre-cum coating my palm, before pushing back down to the base.

“Saeran,” I breath between kisses. He whimpers at the sound of his name on my lips – or maybe it’s from the way I’m touching him. “Saeran,” I repeat. My pace quickens.

“Why are you –” Saeran’s sentence ends midway, his entire body shuddering. I never would have believed he was this sensitive. His moans sound breathy and exhilarated, and I feel pride that I’m orchestrating this. When we had sex, he usually lasted twice as long as me… but I never touched him. Was that the difference? “Why are you doing this?”

“Because.”

He must not have liked my evasive answer, because he grabs my cheeks with one hand and pinches them together. It doesn’t have his usual ferocity because he’s distracted.

“Answer me,” Saeran demands.

I increase my pace. I can feel my own erection, hard and uncomfortable, pushing against his pants, which are shoved down to his mid-thigh. He isn’t even touching me anymore, not sexually at least. This is so much more pleasurable than the blow job I received just now. I love watching his face twitch, his façade melt away, his mouth hang open, and his breath panting on my face.

I love you.

“N-now.” Saeran’s voice began powerful, but it ended in a falter as I strengthen my grip. He starts moving his hips in tandem with my strokes, making the most of the movement. I find myself moaning louder than him just from watching him come undone on top of me. I wish I could stay frozen in this moment because I have absolutely no idea what is going to come after it.

He seems to have forgotten he was demanding an answer from me, since his grip on my cheeks loosens and he wraps both his arms around my neck and shoulders to brace himself as he thrusts. I use my free hand to push the white hair back from his face; the most affectionate thing he’s ever let me to do him. I cherish it almost as much as I cherish the feeling of his smooth, hard cock twitching in my palm.

I love you.

Saeran can’t make eye contact with me anymore. He throws his head back, and I wonder briefly if it’s because he’s ashamed he’s letting someone else touch him.

When he cums, his entire body shudders and he bucks so hard he’s pressing his erection right into my chest and stomach. It’s painful, but nothing I can’t endure. Saeran’s cum spills onto my chest and it trails down into my belly button and further. He buries his face in my shoulder and clamps down roughly with his teeth, another effort to hide his orgasm face no doubt.

When Saeran comes down from his high, he looks over at me shyly, a blush on his cheeks. I blink a few times to ensure I’m not hallucinating. He looks so open and receptive right now that I could… I could probably…

“I love you,” I blurt and pull him into a kiss before he can even respond. I’m reassured that he hasn’t pulled away immediately or hit me. He just kisses me back. Tears threaten to fall. I got to tell him. Saeran told me his name; he let me touch him; and I told him I love him.

Is he even going to remember this when he’s sober?

That thought ruins my glee, and I pull back to look in his eyes. He looks even more disoriented than before and he’s having trouble focusing on my eyes. He squints a few times and shakes his head once, but it clearly isn’t helping.

“I can’t see you,” he says softly. “I took too many, and-” a side effect of the magenta drugs. If Saeran keeps taking them, he’ll eventually go blind. 

“I’m here,” I reassure him in my sweetest voice. “I won’t leave.”

“Yoosung…”

“I love you, Saeran.”

“I know.”

It’s twisted, and fucked up, but it’s enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Blackprose](https://blackprose.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [@LikelyRogue](https://twitter.com/LikelyRogue) on Twitter. Hit me up to chat or buy me a [coffee](https://ko-fi.com/blackprose)
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please read my other works!


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